ce, 'This restarong is no
longer what it was.'

"'The champagne is, and better,' I consoled him.

"'Well, what do you say now,' he asked,' to a pig's trotter farced
with pimento? _That_ sounds appetising, at any rate.'

"I think it was at this point, accurately, that I began to suspect
him of having exceeded or of being on the verge of excess. But the
suspicion no sooner crossed my mind than he set it at rest by getting
up and walking across the room to his great-coat, on the rack by the
door. His gait was perfectly steady. He drew certain articles from
the pockets, returned with them, and laid them on the table:
a cigar-case, a mysterious round box of white metal--sort of box you
buy 'Blanco' in--and another round object concealed in a crushed
paper-bag. He opened the first.

"'Have a cigar,' he invited me. 'They smoke between the courses in
this place--proper thing to do.'

"'Sanitary precaution,' I suggested. 'I'll be content with a
cigarette for the present. What are your other disinfectants?'

"He laughed, very suddenly and violently. 'Disinfectants?'
he chortled; 'that's a good 'un! They're exhibits, my dear
sir--pardon-liberty-calling-you-Dear-sir. Stewards collected a
dozen, these infernal machines--'

"'There's no need to shout,' said I. No, Otty I was sober.
. . . But I looked around and it struck me that the faces at the
near tables were bright, and white, and curiously distinct in the
cigarette-smoke.

"'I am not shouting,' Farrell protested: but he was, and at that
moment. 'Disinfectants? That box, there--there's a bottle inside--
sulphuretted hydrogen. T'other joker's a firework of sorts.
I brought 'em along for evidence. . . . Wha's that?' He jerked
himself bolt upright, staring at a dish the waiter held under his
nose.

"'It's the _tete de veau en spaghetti_ you ordered, sir,' said
Giovanni.

"'Did I? I don't remember it. Do _you_ remember my ordering
tait-de-whatever it calls itself?' he asked me earnestly.

"Well, I couldn't, and I said so.

"'If I did,' commanded Farrell, 'take it away and let me forget it.
This place is not what it was. . . . Take it away, you Corsican
Brother, and bring me the bill! Look here,' said he as Giovanni
departed. 'We'll get out of this and try something better. What do
you say to looking in at the Ritz?' He lit his cigar and poured out
more champagne.

"'As you like,' said I. 'Let's get out of this anyway. For my part,
I've had